


The House on St James Street

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-08 18:04:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12259377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: There is a house on St James Street which has various functions for Mycroft Holmes 'minor' government official.





	1. New Staff

Mrs Hudson sighed slightly when she heard the knock on the front door.  She knew both Mr Holmes and Dr Watson were out and she had enough to do without dealing with unexpected clients.  Nevertheless she went downstairs and opened the door.

“Oh, Mr Holmes, I wasn’t expecting you,” she said.  “I’m afraid your brother is out at the moment and I can’t say how long he will be gone.  Would you like me to take a message, or would you prefer to come in and wait?”

“Thank you, Mrs Hudson,” Mycroft Holmes said, as he stepped inside.  “In fact it was you I had come to see, not Sherlock.  Perhaps we could make use of his rooms whilst I explain the reason for my visit; I would prefer not to be overheard.”  Then, seeing the expression of alarm on Mrs Hudson’s face, he hurriedly added, “Please do not worry, it is not bad news.”

Mrs Hudson accompanied Mycroft to 221B, where he insisted she take a seat, before he began, “We have an establishment in central London where a number of individuals stay rather discretely for a day or two, before moving on.  I am currently looking for a suitable housemaid, and wondered whether you would be able to recommend anyone.”

Mrs Hudson said severely, “I am not sure I can help you, Mr Holmes.”

Mycroft was surprised at her reply, and then hastened to add, “By discrete, I of course mean those individuals who, for reasons of state, would prefer others to be unaware of their presence.  And who, perhaps, may need to meet another individual without being seen.  We would be looking for a practical young lady, whose discretion could be relied on, and who would be able to cope with the unexpected.”

“How dangerous is it?” Mrs Hudson asked.

This was not the response Mycroft had expected.  He paused, looked up at the landlady, and then smiled.  “Anyone who is capable of wielding a poker and coal scuttle would easily be able to learn the essentials for keeping themselves safe.”

““I am sure I do not know anyone with those abilities,” Mrs Hudson said firmly.

“Quite so, madam.”

“However, if someone with those attributes should come to my attention, how would you like me to proceed?”

“If she could present herself at 11 o’clock tomorrow morning, at an address in St James Street which I shall give you, further details would be provided.”

“And this position would be well remunerated?”

“Naturally.”

They both stood up, and Mrs Hudson escorted Mycroft back downstairs.  Mrs Hudson shut the door thoughtfully behind him; she would be sorry to see Esme go, but at least she already had her eye on a suitable replacement.


	2. The False Beard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written for DW's Fan Flashworks Glue Challenge

Esme had been working in St James Street for just over a week.  She had seen a number of different people come and go, but so far her life had been rather less interesting than the one she had experienced at 221B Baker Street.  So when the butler informed her there would be a dinner that evening, and it would be necessary for her to keep her wits about her, she was rather excited.

The three gentlemen arrived separately, and Esme served them with drinks in the drawing room.  One of the gentlemen looked vaguely familiar to her, but she hadn’t recognised any of their names, so despite her curiosity she behaved as if they were complete strangers.

It was not long before dinner was served and the three went into the dining room.  Esme went too, as the butler had told her she would be required to serve whilst he poured the wine.  She listened carefully to the conversation as she served the soup, and then the main course, but it was of a very general nature.  She presumed the discussion would become more interesting once she and the butler had left the room.

When the butler judged it would be time to return to clear the plates, Esme followed him back.  The dining room was very warm, and as soon as she entered the room, Esme realised there was a problem.

Accordingly, when she bent down to collect the plate of the gentleman she thought she recognised, she said very quietly, “Mr Holmes, your beard is coming loose at one side.”  Then she straightened up, and continued in a normal voice, “I trust everything was to your satisfaction, sir.”

“Yes, thank you,” Holmes replied.  “But I fear I am a little warm.  Would you gentlemen excuse me if I were to step outside for a few minutes to cool down?”

The other two gentlemen nodded, and seemed pleased they would have the time to themselves.  Holmes left the room, followed by Esme and the butler with the plates.

As soon as they were away from the dining room door, the butler said, “Go and help him.  You have ten minutes before we shall need to serve the dessert.”

Esme hurried off.  She ran upstairs, and Holmes called her from one of the bedrooms.

“You will need to glue the beard back on,” Holmes said.  He produced a small bottle of spirit gum from his pocket and passed it over.

Esme felt slightly uneasy at touching Holmes’ face, but then she remembered helping Mrs Hudson clean the scratches on Holmes’ face, on one occasion when Dr Watson had been elsewhere.  Then they had been using surgical spirit and Mrs Hudson’s instruction was ‘just make sure he doesn’t set fire to anything’.  Esme moved the candle a little further away, before applying the glue to Holmes’ face and then firmly pressing the beard back on.

Holmes looked at himself in the mirror, said “Excellent, thank you,” and returned downstairs.

Esme watched him go and followed about a minute later.  It would be important no-one saw them together.

The rest of the evening passed without a hitch, and all three gentlemen departed shortly after eleven o’clock.  About fifteen minutes later Mycroft Holmes arrived.  He was just removing his overcoat when there was a knock on the door.  The butler opened it, and Sherlock Holmes entered.

Mycroft looked closely at him.  “You weren’t recognised?” he asked.

“Not at all, although Esme had to glue part of my beard back on midway through the meal,” Holmes laughed.

Mycroft sighed, then turned to Esme.  “Thank you my dear, your help is proving invaluable.  If you could provide coffee for us in the drawing room that will be all we shall need for tonight.”

She did as instructed, and then retired to bed.  After she had left, Sherlock Holmes confirmed to Mycroft the cabinet minister who had been at the dinner was prepared to sell certain papers to the third man present.

Mycroft pursed his lips.  “Such a shame.  The man had promise, but he will need to be moved.  Still, better we find out now than later.”

 


	3. Two Masked Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for DW's Watson Woes "Masquerade" prompt

The last few days at the house in St James Street had been busy, so when the butler had told Esme they had no guests for dinner that evening, she was quite happy at the news.  And since the butler, who Esme suspected was rather more than just a butler, had said he was going out too, she was looking forward to spending the evening with a book.

The butler departed, telling her to only admit someone called Redfield.  The name of the visiting gentleman changed on a daily basis, so Esme nodded to show she had understood.  She finished her chores and took her book into the drawing room.  She had been reading for some time when she heard someone urgently knocking on the front door.

She unlocked the door, leaving the chain on, and opened the door a few inches.  A man’s voice gasped out “Redfield.”

She opened the door fully and two men wearing evening dress and masks, such as might be worn to a ball, stumbled in.  She shut and locked the door again, before hurrying to help the two men.  It was clear one of the men was being supported by the other, who himself looked to have sustained an injury.

With Esme’s assistance, the more seriously wounded of the two was half-carried into the drawing room and laid on the sofa.  As they did so, Esme gave a yelp, for she had recognised the masked man, and said, “Oh, Dr Watson, what’s happened to you?”

“I was attacked,” the other man said, as he removed his mask, and Esme recognised the butler, “and Dr Watson came to my aid.  Unfortunately my attackers then turned on him.”

Esme took a deep breath and said, “I can clean some of his wounds, but he ought to be seen by a doctor.  And you’ve been injured too.”

“Yes,” the butler said.  “I think they broke my arm.  I can manage though.”

Esme looked sternly at him.  “I will get some warm water and bandages for Dr Watson, and a sling for your arm.  That will help until you can get some proper medical attention.”

Esme had done what she could with the injuries and was pouring two glasses of brandy when there was another knock on the front door.  She glanced over at the butler who nodded, so she went to the door, and once more cautiously opened it.

“It’s Mr Redfield, my dear,” a man with a slight foreign accent said.  “Could you let me in?”

Esme removed the chain and, as she opened the door more fully, the man pushed his way in.  The hallway was fairly dark, and he paused, presumably deciding which way to go.  As he did so, Esme picked up the coal scuttle which had been left beside the door, and hit him hard on the back of the head.  He collapsed onto the floor, and she seized the poker and jabbed it firmly between his shoulder blades in case he tried to get up again.

The noise had alerted the butler who came into the hallway.  “What happened?” he asked.

“This man was masquerading as Mr Redfield,” Esme explained.

“Right,” the butler said.  “Can you help me tie him up?”  He waved his arm which was in a sling to explain his need for help.

Esme did so, and then returned to the drawing room to check on Dr Watson.

The doctor looked at her and said, “Are you okay?  You’ve got coal dust on your face.”

“Oh, that’s from the coal scuttle,” Esme said.

“Of course,” Dr Watson nodded and closed his eyes.

Esme was slightly worried by this response, fearing the doctor was rather confused following his attack.  But then he opened his eyes again and said, “Mrs Hudson would be proud of you.”

 


End file.
